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942 · Jul 2016
Legend of Chetak
Snehith Kumbla Jul 2016
so in pure
fabled fashion,
at the battle of Haldighati (1576),

Chetak, Maharana Pratap
astride, leapt across
a gaping betwixt two cliffs

and fatally injured,
died a hero,
that

400-odd years later
the Arabian steed
stands stone-cut in Jaipur,

the Maharana
urging him on
to battle,

Chetak,
all set to go
airborne...
Jaipur - A city in India.

As the legend goes...Chetak was the horse of Rajput king Maharana Pratap, one of the few rulers who resisted Mughal rule in the 16th century. The horse saved the king's life by leaping across a pass and thus evading the Mughal army. Chetak succumbed to its injuries as a result of the great jump.
916 · May 2016
rejuvenation
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
summer burns out
its ****-end,
out it goes in
an ember glow,
grey-blanket
wrap the skies,
and a tree attires
itself in new clothes...
914 · Sep 2016
twilight city
Snehith Kumbla Sep 2016
Venus flashes in the horizon
a distant torchlight,
invisible constellations
seep the sky's sonority,

the mysterious
assumes a drab
uniformity,

construction inches closer,
stale reptilian cringe...
tired gaiety of headlights
groping home,

that carefree shepherd
within, long lost
and forgotten...
Goodbye Pune, the charming small town that is fast becoming a snarling, chaotic city.
899 · Feb 2018
hollering, adventure
Snehith Kumbla Feb 2018
once again I
stumble on the
road eternal,

a friend stirs
my embers, and
I light up again,

a distant presence
of youth, balance,
calm, possibilities

dance a riotous
rollick within,
hollering, hollering

adventure
Snehith Kumbla Aug 2016
over the cracked
footpath, he spreads
his time-frozen
wares unawares

of childhood now
arrested indoors,
TV, computer,
cell phone drone,

no mango trees
to aim at, the
playgrounds
have gone concrete,

trudge home
catapult seller,
the market for
such simple pleasures,

now obsolete...
Catapult - A plaything consisting of a Y-shaped stick with elastic between the arms; used to propel small stones (WordWeb dictionary)
892 · Oct 2016
Road Naming Ceremony
Snehith Kumbla Oct 2016
oh give it any name,
a martyr, king,
clown, fighter,
warrior, film star,
singer, cricketer...

but tell me
that the road
will last
this monsoon,

that it will not
soon resemble
the great craters
of the moon,

that you will
not dig up here,
suddenly
remembering
about some
buried gold...

tell me, will
I ever say-
*"let us walk
down our
good old
road again"
Roads in India are infamous for potholes, resulting in accidents and deaths... how a bout of rain is enough to create mini swimming pools in them...
891 · Jun 2016
gossip: an introduction
884 · Jan 2018
body,story
Snehith Kumbla Jan 2018
a mole to kiss
for good luck,

the cut you
got as a child,

I keep reading
your body,

your story...
870 · Jul 2016
dancing the garba
Snehith Kumbla Jul 2016
we make a rickety circle
and the beat takes us all,
bend forward, clap our
hands, sway this way, that,

a bow of arms,
twirl of legs, form
wings, furl, unfurl,
the body confined

in a twist of finality,
the world on a
swirl-round axis
and we curl to

where the planet
began its primal
dance, of scent,
step, musk, air...
The garba is a traditional Indian folk dance festival that celebrates nine forms of Goddess Durga. For nine evenings, especially in North-West India, people dance from evening to dawn to traditional music.
870 · May 2016
fighting anger
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
spout
mayflowers
on my arms

splash
in a fall of
cascade

sing
myself a
melody

fling
a paper
airplane

make arrow
heads of
words

step out
stare intent
at stars

string an
old guitar
to frenzy

run to
the beat
of my feet

very
very
slowly

count
up to
ten

a room
caught in
mid-waltz

hush in  
a storm's
aftermath  

debris
strewn
around
869 · Jan 2018
total eclipse
Snehith Kumbla Jan 2018
supermoon!
super achievement!

we finally look away
from our cell phones...

three...
two..
one.

back to our
prolonged
eclipses...
858 · Jun 2016
without you
Snehith Kumbla Jun 2016
slowly, gently,
the poison,
froths the cup it fills,

slowly, gently,
the poison,
twirls between the sips,

surely, surely,
the poison,
a blues tune on my lips,

slowly, gently,
the poison,
reds the cup it fills,

slowly, gently,
the poison,
spouts between the sips,

surely, surely,
the poison,
a blues tune on my lips...
843 · May 2017
swivel chair
Snehith Kumbla May 2017
just sitting here
with stiff legs
a stone face

when I swivel
it is to swivel
at a single place  

not going anywhere
am your swivel chair
not going anywhere
am your swivel chair

have long stopped longing
for adventure and smiles
have discarded all things
that enlivened me inside  

have no life, do not care
am not going anywhere
am your swivel chair

you look like me
I look like you

each passing year
we just wait here
for no person
for no place
for all things to
magically change

like two brothers
rusting together
like two brothers
rusting together  

just sitting here
with stiff legs
a stone face

when I swivel
it is to swivel
at a single place  

am not going anywhere
am your swivel chair
am not going anywhere
am your swivel chair
827 · Feb 2018
Down with Leisure, Inc.
Snehith Kumbla Feb 2018
the joy of
having a few
currency notes
in the jeans pocket,

and floating through
the day in careless
glee is all but over,
they tax our hearts,

they tax our minds,
plying election dreams
and lust for drugged
drowsy seats of power,

down with leisure!
their cattle call.
804 · Aug 2016
simple people
Snehith Kumbla Aug 2016
unheeded as they live
quietly by themselves
easy smiles flowing
banter chatter of
familiar things,

anything out of the
ordinary troubles
them for days after,
furrowed foreheads,
hushed exteriors,

slowly then life
seeps back to
their features,
that engaging goodwill
of generations,

of gentle demeanour
fragile as glass yet
companions affable,
little whiffs of honey
to the human hive,

a vine wall pattern
tribal's thumping
multi-drum song,
unassuming in
celebration,  
    
in the world's
gather, among
greed-gathering
plush pushing
***** blokes

soft spread gentle
wounded crumpled
sing-song trample
firefly twinkle
simple people...
797 · Jun 2017
Bhang* Diary
Snehith Kumbla Jun 2017
when I laugh,
the whole body
one big mouth
of laughter

when I sing
words emit
like a seismo-
seismograph

If I squat, drowsy,
all my teeth are
melting down
a whirlpool

walk, look back
and wonder,
whose vanishing
footsteps
are they
meanwhile,

my as-lost-as-me
friends, frantic for
shade in the sun
and can't find it

together, like a
splash of colours,
we loll in the garden
for the madness to pass

later, at home they ask
about the blood red
eyes, I say, it was
some colour, some holi
*Bhang is a milk-based drink traditionally consumed on the day of holi, the festival of colours in India. This poem was first published in the Mar-Apr 2012 issue of the Reading Hour magazine.
764 · May 2016
stand still
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
stand still
let me consider you,

a whole month of
acquaintance blazed
in the rush of embraces,
but now that much is
quelled, calm,

stand still,
let me consider you...
756 · May 2016
new day
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
what
is heavy
full to
the brim
let it out
smoke like
into the night
that a new
road curves
before me
This poem was first published in the Jan-Feb 2013 issue of Reading Hour Magazine
Snehith Kumbla Oct 2016
the pigeon has not
just lain two eggs,

it has lain the
promise of flight,
pairs will take off,
float and land
with adroit skill,
feverishly mate
to fast-flapping
feathers, curve
an avian circle...

now if I may ask,
as the human
on whose area
you roost,
prospective
mother, what
exactly are
you doing
about hygiene?

like when will the
next pigeon
generation be
toilet-trained?

after all cats
dig a hole and
cover afterwards
so you see -
ablution evolution
is certainly possible
in the creature world

I have no other
complaints,
winged sister,
you take
little space,
may your
children prosper

we are sorry
for the trees ,
by the way

for our species,
frequently intimidated,
perennially afraid,
build fortresses
of dismay, that you
have to conjure
your nests on them

I do hope your kids,
god willing, when
time ripens, built
their nests on
branches, lay their
eggs on huge trees,
take flying classes
off stout branches...

by the way,
don't spread
the word to the
rest of your kin,
that our balcony
is the nesting kind

you see we humans
are still animal,
still territorial,
once is fine, but
another time,
we are not
so jovial...
744 · Sep 2016
your hate my friend
Snehith Kumbla Sep 2016
your hate my friend
rings more true
than your concern
ever did

lately your
devious
cunning and
withdrawn  

darkness
of desire
and lust
bursts

enveloping
you in
lurid
colours

gliding
away from
your tricksy
innards

mimicked,
withdrawn,
bulbous,
your guttered

hatred and
ignorance so
pronounced
nothing

could have
been more
stark
but this

clear, dire,
directed
detest
my friend
For a friend and the day that he lost himself.
741 · May 2016
farewell
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
left with
deceit,
kisses,
longings,
experience

I man,
animal,
crude
of
flesh,

easily
offended,
aghast,
burnt,
bent

at such
teasing,
*******,
frothing,
fluff,

nothing
gave in,
but
frozen
surrender,

as she
floated
through rings,
juggled orbits,
trajectories,

full to
the brim
now,
stagnant,
unwavering,

a silence
acrid,
algae,
repulsion,
alarm

how
geographically
one can be
aloof, as in
heart

oh, of such
mysteries
are men,
women
shaped

so
farewell,
my habit
leads me
by hand,

yes,
farewell,
how splendid
to blow
this apart,

oh,
farewell,
and thank
you for
thine sweet
heart,

but farewell,
it was a
beautiful time

how water
ebbs, cuts
at the banks..
727 · May 2016
three beach days
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
i

half-hexagonal shape
of collected stones
walling the shore

flapless flight, a
white-belied eagle
spread against hill  

brass lock gate,
a dark morning
to high tide din

gulls fish diving
arrows at twilight,
star-mobbed night

ii

waves swish above,
whip us a few feet,
push, crash, beat

perched on a rock,
soft airborne feet
part water again

an early morning
climb up a cliff,
as far as eyes

can see, the
endless hazy
ruptures of sea

iii

little fire with
wet matchsticks,
coconut husk,

scrap wood,
twigs, winter
grass residue

a confetti of
tales at tea,
she, he, me

quieter in our
rooms at dusk,
again adrift

iv

I sum up my
habits, their
relentless

obstinate
shore lash,
wasted years

here, once
aside from
the crowd

consider
my islands,
my inner seas

v  

how demonic
to confront
oneself, for

once, let it be,
a calmness
settles like

residue, and
though youth
fades every

moment, I may
yet foray again,
again to meet

myself on a
salt breeze morn,
the tide, the beach
720 · Sep 2016
first, last run diary
Snehith Kumbla Sep 2016
the first time I ran,
mother says,
was because I didn't
want to be held on to,

so I broke all grasps
and fled as children
do and not remember
afterwards,

why

the last time I ran
was yesterday,
cajoling myself
to alarm beeps,

like a break in habit,
slow, tired and then
in rhythm, but not like
a first time, or a last,

tedium

did joy
pass by?
the running gods
didn't reply.
715 · Jan 2018
for you
Snehith Kumbla Jan 2018
you are like the
great mountain
in my heart,

distant, elusive
in a snowstorm,
melting, gushing,
a stream apart,

alone

melancholic among
snail glide clouds,
fading ****** of
the shepherd's call,

you are like the
great mountain
in my heart...
Snehith Kumbla Oct 2016
your hate my friend
rings more true
than your concern
ever did

lately your
devious
cunning and
withdrawn  

darkness
of desire
and lust
bursts

enveloping
you in
lurid
colours

gliding
away from
your tricksy
innards

mimicked,
withdrawn,
bulbous,
your guttered

hatred and
ignorance so
pronounced
nothing

could have
been more
stark
but this

clear, dire,
directed
detest
my friend

your hate my friend
make murky islands,
rake dead leaves,
but make not you

remember the moment
you lost yourself, from
quiet wisdom to animal
stench, unquenchable

your hate my friend
defeated you and
you need no more
defeating within

your hate my friend
684 · Jul 2016
Before Saturday #1
Snehith Kumbla Jul 2016
once I book for Saturday
a hunger starts gathering
heavy between us,

Monday our innards
spew out smoke, Tuesday
we are in flames

we two predators in
distant forests, stripped
of pretensions,

fabric peeling warm
off our skins, tongues
scouring for pleasure,

three sea days and
nights separate us,
defeated by flesh,

we steal each other
our desires, how her
******* ache for touch,

as I knead them to dough,
blood crimson with bites,
drooping over me in ends,

baby you can simply tell
me what you want, and I
tell her, laid back, leisurely,

slow slow slow *******,
deliciously, all the way
in my mouth, she adds,

then to stop, take a breath,
start over, **** inside of the
thighs, navel, *******,

as you want it, all yours,
her wanting me to come
again again and again,

she wants me to '**** me,
lick me, **** me,' till I
come', drive me crazy,

over the edge,
Ohhhh yes yes,
and its midnight,

Tuesday turns to
Wednesday, day closer to
sin, I say, sleep well...
Explicit
679 · May 2016
slow
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
I love slow,
not snailish,
random acts,
but where one is
relieved, revealed

in their yawn and
stretching of limbs,
a little scratch
in the ribs,
stomach

like an animal
absently fluffing
up fur...
a spread of charm,
wayward hair

strand curled
curled to a spiral,
deep guttural sigh
of a woman asleep
over her lush hair

or walking quietly
under the trees
trance-gazing
a stray cotton seed,
helicoptering dry leaf,

squirrel run...
I love slow,
gentle sidestep
dance to it,
revolve of

lissome waist to music,
liquid spread
in a hot pan,
still breath
between kisses

sea waves licking
up the feet,
slithering afar,
time nibbling
away...
664 · Jan 2018
lazy drowsy decay
Snehith Kumbla Jan 2018
to be assured
of a roof above
my head,

and a mother
who will cook
for me lovingly,

nothing is so
damning as
absolute safety,

I am the human
cat this fading
winter, wait

and I may soon
grow whiskers,
the days fling

away like speeding
scenery from a
train window,

I sing my
death song,
tomorrow,

tomorrow...
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
I so love this leisurely life,
hence the disdain for
marriage and wife

but if such calamity were
to befall and I find myself
hungry, sweaty, tired

in a dining hall, while
the guests have a ball,
let it be then, that my

pretty partner has gaol
bird thoughts, who doesn't
stand compromised, sad

imposed nonsense of
any sort, when I take
her hand, ask her if we

can flee, she wouldn't
care a hoot and simply
heed the call, I am

looking for a runaway
then, not a wife, one
who loves the trees,

breeze, road bends,
adventures, loves to
take solitary walks and

may be meet her husband
sometimes, just because
she feels the need, I am

not looking at all, for a
society-accepting, drab,
tradition-obeying being,

I am not looking for a
wife, after all, because I
so love this leisurely life

we could be lovers instead

here's to
streams travels wheel trees

here's to
kettle fumes dunes blues

here's to
hammocks ruffled hair loose clothes

here's to the free ebb
(Written in Dec 2014)
Wedding Reception: A event that is usually held within a week of the wedding (or the evening post the wedding), accompanied with dinner for the guests.
642 · May 2017
as it is
Snehith Kumbla May 2017
life
you don't want to live

ways
you don't want to earn

friends
you would rather not make

girls
you wouldn't talk to again

this
death silence is your making

tell
me you didn't see it coming

self-destruction
mutates in myriad ways

sometimes
oh so quietly and

kaboom!
right in your suicidal-in-waiting face
640 · Jan 2018
attraction
Snehith Kumbla Jan 2018
never fails to set
the heart into a
run

when with her
molten fingers she
tames her hair

into a bun
627 · Jun 2016
Noah & The Girl
Snehith Kumbla Jun 2016
A lacuna
between us,
so I bridged out an arm
across her shoulder,
made slow circles
on her bare arm,

Meanwhile
Noah built his
ship, afloat
despite its
strange design,

One could trust
Russell Crowe on
such earth-saving
matters.

When it got too much,
she plucked my stiff arm,
clasped it with her left,
lay them parallel yet
in unison between
our chairs,

Fingers finding gaps
among her fingers,

A dove flew in,
land ahoy!
it chirped.
While watching Noah (starring Russel Crowe) in a theater.
621 · Jan 2018
the sayonara cat
Snehith Kumbla Jan 2018
the night ambled
into a snug corner

tiptoed round itself
in a quarter circle

sparked against its
own purring fur and

fell into a dreamless
pit, whiskers whispering

s a y o n a r a . . .
619 · Jan 2018
mutton curry
Snehith Kumbla Jan 2018
the tethered goat
bleats cheerful as

the butcher's knife
scraps against the

beheading stone.
606 · Jul 2016
magic web woman
Snehith Kumbla Jul 2016
magic sweet words
tumult breathless,
teasing over others:
she spins her web,

spins intricately,
nattily: ages of
scalding have done
her in perhaps,

or stabs that refusal
brings, this is how
she is, will be, busy in
her impenetrability

a tightrope walker,
a smooth talker,
faker, giver, taker,
the silk is thick,

her clean heart
thus corrupted
she has trouble
sometimes, I

can see it in her
eyes, the distortion
of not knowing, for
those few dangling

moments, who she is,
face / mask
voice / silence
agreement / refusal

I may have persevered
I may have stayed
if only the years
weren't slipping away,

I wish neither of us
were built this way.
Written in 2013
599 · Jul 2016
Jasmine, at my window
Snehith Kumbla Jul 2016
why pluck
the jasmine
at my window...

what will I tell
the breeze,  
that go follow

its withering  
among idols
framed pictures

incense fumes  
severed plucked
presented wreath

homage to the gods,  
or will I sway the
bees, a telepathic

signboard painted
of dour directions,
none shall heed

even as petals
pucker away
toothless mouths

nibbling
nothingness...
but there!

within a clawed
green hold
a clasped

delicate
white inch of
a cold moon

jasmine,
at my
window...
579 · Jan 2018
All Hail the Afternoon Nap!
Snehith Kumbla Jan 2018
All hail the
Afternoon nap!

For only those
Luxuriant to

Take it as and
When they wish it

Know the true
Meaning of the word

LEISURE!
565 · Nov 2016
clouds
Snehith Kumbla Nov 2016
we waltz dancers,
we anti-gravity loafers,
mammoth or small fry,  

no repressive impetus,  
no stagnant blot on time,

when light, we glide,  
when laden, we fall
564 · Oct 2016
why, the sparrow
Snehith Kumbla Oct 2016
why does the sparrow alight
at my barred window,

what does it view from
its iron bar perch,

brushing its furtive beak on
the black-painted surface,

a wave movement,
going down its throat,  

a jasmine creeper,
wound to the bars,

buds anew, withered
petals, dew-fragrant bloom,

it sees none of those,
but a habit embarked

on by some instinct,
the sparrow stays

stays stays stays...
and to what urge,  

at a exact moment,
it takes flight

dwindle dwindle
dwindling from sight,

a soul so petite,
mammoth sky...
562 · Jan 2018
haiku 15/1
Snehith Kumbla Jan 2018
winter dawn
sparrows tail-dancing
atop the tall grass
561 · Aug 2016
To the Colony Cat, 1993
Snehith Kumbla Aug 2016
dear c

forgive me
for forcibly making you
climb the trunk of a coconut tree,

testing how your kind 
fall from a height and
still land on four feet,

clasp palms over eyes,  
watch you walk backwards
comically, tentatively,

for pinning that
batch to your tail,
with the legend,  
"Stop not, cease not,
until the goal is reached."
...you going round the
dining table to
sister's screams,

cutting off your whiskers
to the shortest length,
just to see what we get,

I know in cat heaven,
they are sentencing
me to a cat body,
and you as my human
master, circle of life...

do remember,
the daily fish feast,
lick-lick-ety milk,
head brushing,
under chin rubs,
soft fur combing,
sleep pat-purr,

do consider,
that I was a kid,
a storm burst
in my head,
as tingled as a
cat on a cat hunt...
553 · Jun 2016
fit in / fit out?
Snehith Kumbla Jun 2016
fit out
or
fit in?

the former
has its
sweet
victories

the latter
more of
an exercise
for sentries
545 · Feb 2018
hush, sleep
Snehith Kumbla Feb 2018
listen
listen
closely,

even the sheets
and blankets
that you unfurl
before curling
into the night,

speak sleep.
with a hush
and a full stop.
543 · May 2016
dive
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
how brave words melt...
habit, convention,
bind us, eventually

how birds waver
at the sight of an
open cage, numb

life, joy, waste,
so often decided at
the blink of an eye

as to banish the
fear of water, one
has to inevitably

dive
540 · Jan 2018
morning walk #1
536 · Dec 2017
buxom moon
Snehith Kumbla Dec 2017
Who looks up at the
Buxom moon?
The city is drowned
In its own grimness.
532 · Jan 2018
city #1
Snehith Kumbla Jan 2018
one night
when I can walk out
and see the stars again
flooding a clear upturned
sky bowl like still lanterns,

I will say
this is my home!
this is my city!

one day
when I wake to the
morning calls of birds
and a solemn flood of
silence at daybreak,

I will say
this is my home!
this is my city!

one afternoon
drowsy and calm,
settling into a book
as dogs lay sideways
under umpteen trees,

I will say
this is my home!
this is my city!  

and in evenings
spent in undisturbed
meetings and charm,
and roads untarnished
bright-lit and sparse,  

I will say
this is my home!
this is my city!  

I know I will have
to go in search of one,
waiting is a hazardous
stagnancy except in love,
for where the peace is,

I will say
is my home!
is my city!
521 · May 2017
Once in a while...
Snehith Kumbla May 2017
once in a while go hither,
where man hasn't choked earth to tar

once in a while go thither,
where flowers sway golden, buds ajar

once in a while ponder,
trees helicoptering a stray, twirling shape

once in a while dash out,
away from gloomy computer haze,

once in a while stroll aimless,
down a narrow, dark mysterious lane

once in a while gauging,
the  kite's whirling escapades

once in a while go hither,
where Frost chose a less traveled path

once in a while go thither,
where you desire but hesitate in act

once in a while on a calm night,
when you go cascading on a dream

once in a while when years,  
have withered you to skeletal bane

all your once-in a-whiles shall  
gather, beehive heavy and clean  

once again you shall step out,  
awash in roaring wondrous sheen...
519 · Jan 2018
bonfire
Snehith Kumbla Jan 2018
somewhere
deep within
the heap of
habit,

a forest dusk
hum echoing
through ages
and time,

clean as a shroud,
pure as a womb,
await the embers
of a bonfire...
513 · May 2016
a kiss chronicle
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
all in all
I am glad
to have
dived in

to have
made for
myself
the leap

rushing through
the tiny crevice
a pause brought
between prolonged
talk, mostly her
rambling excited
expectant chatter,
and I exhaling
grunted assents

from there to
her glistening
left cheek,
how diminutive
form requires
adjustments    
and the heart
how it sprouts
flares, serenades
vulnerability
again, again

thus to declare
that there's no
sweeter nectar
than a stolen
kiss, that little
tinge of a moment
that you may miss,

risk a slap instead,
or a beating, for
flirtation, youth
and lonely strolls
are extremely fleeting...
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